Angel with a Shotgun
by thefangoddess
Summary: a short little Johnlock thing using the lyric of the song Angel with a Shotgun by the Cab as inspiration


_Get out your guns_

_Battle's begun_

Life with Sherlock Holmes is amazing, if exhausting at times. He shows you the world beneath ours. The battle raging all around us.

"Better bring your gun." He calls to John as he jumps to his feet and rushes to put on his coat. John simply rolls his eyes, grabs his gun and coat, and follows him down to the street.

_Are you a saint or a sinner_

John is considered a saint for putting up with Sherlock for this long. He simply waves away the comments about his lack of observation and intelligence because he knows Sherlock needs him, no matter how much he denies it.

"John." Sherlock says, his eyes popping open for the first time all day. John looks up from his computer and raises his eyebrows.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you still here?" Sherlock asks.

"Excuse me?" John is slightly offended. "I live here."

"Yes, I know that, but why do you still live here? Why haven't you left yet?" Sherlock clarifies.

"Oh. It's because you're my friend Sherlock. I care about you." Sherlock glances at John, puzzled.

"You do?" He seems honestly confused. John laughs and shakes his head.

"Of course I do Sherlock."

_If love's a fight_

_Then I shall die_

_With my heart on a trigger_

Sherlock struggles with human emotion. He always has. It's a commonly known fact. And so when he begins to care for John Watson he doesn't know what to do.

"Hey Sherlock, I'm gone." John calls.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock sits up and stares at the man in the doorway, about to leave.

"Date." John clarifies. Sherlock frowns, a slight pang of jealousy (though he doesn't know it's jealousy) ringing through him.

"No." He says firmly, not quite sure why.

"No?" John raises an eyebrow.

"Don't go on a date John. Please? I'll get bored." He looks at John almost pleadingly. John sighs and gives in.

"Fine, fine. But only because I don't want you shooting up our wall again." He smiles jokingly and Sherlock smiles back.

_They say before you start a war_

_You better know what you're fighting for_

"Don't touch him." Sherlock practically growls, his hands steady as he raises the gun to aim at his enemies head. The man doesn't listen and smirks, running a hand along John's cheek. Sherlock begins to see red.

"I said don't touch him." His voice is low and it reverberates throughout the large warehouse, and so does the gunshot. The man stumbles backwards, clutching his arm to his chest. Sherlock races forward and begins untying John.

"Sherlock." John says, his voice calm.

"Yes?" Sherlock asks, working on untying a particularly tight knot.

"Thank you." Sherlock glances up at John and smiles slightly. When he finally gets John free, he sends a quick text to Lestrade telling him where to find the criminal and helps John limp out of the warehouse.

_Well baby you are all that I adore_

Sherlock doesn't find many things beautiful. Beauty is a ridiculous waste of time to him, time that could be better spent on experiments or cases than staring in awe at the night sky exploding with stars. But he does find John beautiful. John, always the exception, is beautiful. With his blonde hair, and his ever changing eyes. In the way he smiles when he walks in and sees Sherlock 'sleeping' on the couch. The way his laugh sounds.

"Sherlock?" John's voice breaks through his thought barrier. That doesn't usually happen.

"Hmm? Oh, John. What?" He asks.

"You're staring at me."

"Very acute observation."

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful." John's eyes widen.

"I'm...I'm what?"

"You heard me just fine John. Now if you'll excuse me, I was thinking about some very pressing matters." Sherlock delves back into his thoughts and John smiles slightly. Sherlock sees it and it's all he can do to not go over to him so he can study every single feature and flaw on John Watson's face.

_If love is what you need_

_A soldier I will be_

John was an army doctor. Blood does not make him nauseous. But the sight of it on the ground, smeared as if the person had to drag themselves across the floor, he wants to throw up. This might be Sherlock's blood. He races into the kitchen to find Sherlock sprawled on the ground, wincing in pain and clutching his stomach.

"John." He gasps out, seeing the man.

"Help." And just like that John is a doctor again. He rushes to Sherlock's side and gets to work. About an hour later Sherlock is laying down on his bed, explaining to John what happened.

"A man confronted me...tried to make me help him...I refused...he stabbed me." Sherlock gives the short version, exhausted.

"I'm glad you're okay." John says, patting Sherlock's shoulder and smiling warmly.

"All thanks to my doctor." He smiles back. Suddenly they hear a scream and remember the blood smeared at the door.

"Ms. Hudson!" They both say at the same time.

_I'm an angel with a shotgun_

_Fighting till the war's won_

It happened after a case. John and Sherlock were on their post-case high and were giggling and laughing. John had threatened to shoot someone again. They stumbled into 221B and Sherlock stared at John, with his hair messed up and his eyes lit up. He was so beautiful. He looked like an angel. And suddenly he's kissing John, his hands on both sides of his face, and John is kissing him back, and it's fire. Fire and ice, and soaring high and digging a grave. Because when they finally pull away and realize what happened, John looks confused, and he goes to bed. Sherlock is standing there, dumbfounded. He just kissed his John, his angel with a shotgun. His John that will never not fight for him. And it was _amazing._

_I don't care if heaven won't take me back_

John hasn't dated anyone in 3 months. Sherlock studies him as he types away on his laptop. They haven't talked about the kiss (though Sherlock thinks about it frequently) that happened 3 1/2 months ago.

"Sherlock, why are you staring at me again?" John says

_"_You haven't been on a date in 3 months." Sherlock explains.

"No, I haven't." John agrees, looking up at him.

"Why not?"

"I don't really have time for it." John shrugs. Sherlock immediately feels guilty.

"John, you do know that if you want to have a...a girlfriend, then you no longer have to help me with my cases." Sherlock forces the words out, though they seem to physically pain him. John looks at him incredulously.

"I do hope that you're kidding Sherlock. I wouldn't trade helping you on your cases for the world." John sets his computer to the side and goes to kneel in front of Sherlock.

"Promise?" Sherlock asks, worry clear in his eyes. He can't lose his John.

"Promise."

_I'll throw away my faith, babe_

_Just to keep you safe_

_Don't you know you're everything I have_

Sherlock jumps in front of John as the bullet spirals toward him. It hits him in the shoulder and he falls backward onto John.

"Sherlock!" John cries out, catching him. The criminal begins to run away, but Lestrade is already there and he catches her, cuffs her, and throws her into the back of one of the cars.

"Is he alright?" Lestrade asks, jogging over to them.

"No. He needs to go to the hospital." John says, staring at Sherlock with intense worry.

"Why would you do that?" John asks quietly as Lestrade goes to get the paramedics.

"Couldn't let you get hurt." Sherlock coughs out. John looks at him with wide eyes.

"That doesn't mean you jump in front of a fucking bullet for me!" He exclaims.

"Yes it does." Sherlock argues. The paramedics show up and move Sherlock onto a stretcher.

"You're so stupid." John mumbles, watching the ambulance drive away. He should be in it with Sherlock but they wouldn't let him.

"Need a ride?" Lestrade asks.

"Yes please." John replies.

_And I_

_Want to live_

_Not just survive_

_Tonight_

"Bored." The dreaded word. The word that leads to late night violin playing and shooting spray painted smiley faces on the wall.

"What do you suggest I do about it?" John counters.

"Entertain me."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" John looks up at the man sitting upside down in his chair. Suddenly he flips upright and stands up, then walks swiftly over to where John is cleaning up an experiment (of Sherlock's making) and stands very close to him.

"What are you doing?" John asks, standing his ground and looking up at Sherlock, obviously annoyed. Sherlock just smirks and leans down, pressing his lips to John's. The doctor tenses up and Sherlock immediately pulls away.

"Sorry, experiment." He mumbles, then walks back over to his chair, this time sitting like a normal person.

"It's fine." John says quietly, then goes back to cleaning up the experiment. Neither of them mention either of the kisses.

_Sometimes to win_

_You've got to sin_

_Don't mean I'm not a believer_

John and Sherlock are posing as a couple for a case. Right now they're holding hands and checking into their hotel.

"Thank you." Sherlock smiles and takes the key card from the man. He bounds toward the stairs, dragging John with him.

"This is so strange." John chuckles when they're in the stairwell. Sherlock smiles.

"Agreed."

Once in their room Sherlock begins to think. And think. And think and think and think. He thinks until late into the night, when John is asleep. And then he gets tired. He glances at the bed and at John's sleeping form.

"He's going to yell at me." He mumbles as he crawls under the covers next to John a moment later.

"I really don't care." He murmurs, then smiles to himself.

_And major Tom_

_Will sing along_

_Yeah they still say I'm a dreamer_

John cries out in his sleep. Sherlock is immediately at his side and trying to wake him up. He hates when John has nightmares.

"John." He says urgently. Suddenly John shoots awake.

"Sherlock?" He asks when he realizes where he is.

"That would be me. You were having a nightmare." He explains.

"Oh, I'm sorry." John quickly apologizes.

"No need to apologize, I just didn't want you to have to suffer through it." Sherlock says quietly.

"Oh...thank you, I guess." John looks anywhere but at Sherlock.

"You should go back to sleep." Sherlock walks away and John nods and lays back down, falling asleep quickly.

_They say before you start a war_

_You better know what you're fighting for_

They're arguing again.

"Why the hell is there a bloody severed head hanging from my bedroom ceiling?!" John shouts.

"It's an experiment." Sherlock says with a wave of his hand.

"An experiment? Really?" John starts smiling that smile. The smile he smiles when he's very angry.

"Yes." Sherlock turns to look at him and a small tremble runs through him at the look on his friend's face.

"Would you mind ending it?" John practically growls. Sherlock contemplates saying no, but decides against it and shakes his head.

"Of course not." He stands up and walks into John's room and takes the hook out of the ceiling.

"Thank you."

John says, smiling gratefully at him. Sherlock simply nods.

_Well baby, you are all that I adore_

Sherlock is attractive, that much is obvious. But when he walks out of his room in nothing but a sheet wrapped around his waist John nearly chokes on his tea.

"Sherlock, why are you wearing only a sheet?" He asks calmly.

"Convenient." Sherlock says simply. John nods and tries to pay attention to his blog, but it's hard when Sherlock flops down on the couch and his sheet slips further down his waist. Sherlock notices John noticing him and smirks.

"Something wrong John?" He asks innocently.

"Hmm? Oh, no, of course not." John says nervously, eyes flicking to the ground.

"You sure? You seem pretty nervous." Sherlock teases.

"You're a bloody dick, you know that." John mutters, looking up at the ceiling. Sherlock chuckles.

"Sure I am."

_If love is what you need_

_A soldier I will be_

"You alright?" Sherlock asks John.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He mumbles.

"No you aren't." Sherlock argues. He stops in the doorway to their flat, blocking John from going inside.

"Sherlock, I said I'm fine." John attempts (and fails) to get past Sherlock.

"John, what's wrong?" Sherlock presses.

"Nothing!" John exclaims.

"Liar." Sherlock reaches out to grab John's wrist. The man looks up at him and there's a sadness there.

"I didn't save them Sherlock." He says softly. "That's what's wrong."

"You did all you could." Sherlock says quietly, then pulls John into a hug.

_I'm an angel with a shotgun_

_Fighting till the war's won_

It was late one night and Sherlock was playing his violin. He was composing. It was what John called his bad nights. The nights he composed the saddest and most heart breaking of all his songs. This was one of those nights, and it hurt John to know that his friend was so upset.

"Sherlock." John whispered, tiptoeing into the room.

"John." Sherlock greeted him, spinning around.

"You okay?" John asks.

"Sort of." Sherlock replies, studying John intently. He takes two long steps and is suddenly standing right in front of John.

"Can you stay up with me tonight?" He asks quietly, almost as if he's scared, but we all know he isn't because he's _Sherlock bloody Holmes_ the unfeeling sociopath that never gets scared. So John nods and smiles gently up at him.

"Of course I will."

_I don't care if heaven won't take me back_

"John. Please forgive me." Sherlock pleads at John's door. It's been this way the last 2 days. Sherlock had disappeared for a week without telling John where he was going. It was for a case and John had been at work, Sherlock hadn't wanted to inconvenience him.

"Go away Sherlock." John's muffled voice comes from inside.

"John please." Sherlock leans against the door and suddenly it opens, sending Sherlock toppling onto the unsuspecting John.

"Sorry!" Sherlock exclaimed, quickly scrambling to his feet and helping John (his John) stand up.

"It's fine. It's fine. I'm overreacting. I just worried about you." John sighed and looked down.

"No, you're right, I should have told you where I was going." Sherlock apologized.

"What's that? Did the famous Sherlock Holmes just admit to having been in the wrong?" John teases, trying to lighten the mood. Sherlock makes a face at him but is fighting back a smile.

"Oh shut up you idiot."

_I'll throw away my faith, babe_

_Just to keep you safe_

"John!" Sherlock backtracks, looking for him. He doesn't care if the criminal is getting away. Lestrade should be waiting on the other side of this route.

"John!" He calls again.

"Sherlock?" John's voice comes from a small-looking lump on the ground.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock races to his side and notices John glaring offensively at his ankle.

"My bloody ankle is sprained." He said angrily. Sherlock chuckled lightly and helped John to his feet.

"How come you aren't chasing after the criminal? You catch him?"

"No. Leaving that to Lestrade." John looked at the detective with a mixture of awe and amusement.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Your safety is more important."

_And I_

_want to live_

_Not just survive_

_Tonight_

John makes Sherlock a better person. Sherlock chases the limp and the nightmares away for John.

"You're important to me John." Sherlock will say occasionally, and John will always smile and reply with, "you're pretty important to me as well Sherlock." And they will go on with their day. One day that changes. Sherlock randomly gives John a hug and whispers, "I care about you." And John smiles and hugs him back, whispering the same words back. This becomes the new routine. I care about you John. I care about you too Sherlock.

_I'm an angel with a shotgun_

_Fighting till the war's won_

_I don't care if heaven won't take me back_

Sherlock wraps his arms protectively around his John.

"Don't worry. We'll be out of here soon." He whispers. They're currently locked in a small cage in one of the criminal's basements. Just as he says that, light floods the room and Lestrade busts in.

"There you idiots are!" He pulls out a key (must have found it or taken it from criminal) and unlocks the cage. Sherlock crawls out, dragging John's limp body with him, then picks him up and cradles him like a child.

"Drugged." Sherlock mumbles. "Have to go home." And with that he leaves the house and goes back to 221B.

_I'm an angel with a shotgun_

_Fighting till the war's won_

_I don't care if heaven won't take me back_

"John. John. John. John." Sherlock keeps repeating that name.

"Sherlock what do you want?" John asks, annoyed.

"Can we do something?"

"I'm busy."

"No you aren't."

"Well then what the hell do you suggest we do?" John turns around to glare at the man and finds himself barely an inch away from him.

"I was hoping you had an idea." Sherlock says, his breath ghosting across John's face.

"I...no, I don't have any ideas." John says firmly, getting over the shock of having Sherlock so close. Sherlock shivers as John's breath passes across his lips.

"John, I need something to do. I'm bored."

"Get over it."

"I can't."

"Too bad." And then Sherlock darts forward and kisses John quickly. And then it's over and Sherlock is back over on the couch, eyes closed and hands placed under his chin, a small smirk on his face.

_I'll throw away my faith, babe_

_Just to keep you safe_

_Don't you know you're everything I have_

"You. Always you John. Always you who brings me back." Sherlock says softly.

"Sherlock you're sick, you need to sleep." John insists, pulling the covers up over him.

"Don't need sleep." He mumbles, but even so his eyes droop down.

"Sure you don't." John smiles and walks out, closing the door behind him.

_And I_

_Want to live_

_Not just_

_Survive_

Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective, was completely head over heels for John Watson.

"John." He mumbles softly in his sleep. John looks up at him and smiles.

"John." He repeats.

"John!" He shouts. A nightmare. John is being taken away from him. Suddenly he jerks awake. He looks frantically around the room. He doesn't calm down until he sees John looking at him, worry written clearly across his face.

"Are you all right Sherlock?" he asks. Sherlock nods.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

_and I'm gonna hide, hide, hide my wings tonight_

Sherlock wraps his coat around John, hoping to warm him up.

"You're freezing." he mumbles.

"So are you." John argues trying to give Sherlock his coat.

"I'll be fine. We're almost home." Sherlock says, taking it and wrapping it back around John's shoulders. They go a few moments without any arguing or disturbances. And then John puts his arm around Sherlock.

"John?" Sherlock asks, looking down at him.

"Warmth. I'm sharing the coat with you." John explains. Sherlock smiles slightly and slips his arm around John as well so that the coat will stay on both of them.

_they say before you start a war_

_you better know what you're fighting for_

_well baby you are all that I adore_

_if love is what you need_

_a soldier I will be_

It happened after a case, much like the first. John looked over at Sherlock (his Sherlock) and Sherlock looked over at John (his John) and then they kissed. It felt like fire, like Sherlock and John were at the center of an inferno, like they were burning. When they pulled away from each other and looked into each other's eyes, they knew this was what was going to happen all along. Sherlock smiles and John does too.

"I care about you John."

"I care about you too Sherlock."


End file.
